Sing Your Melody
by pointlessfangirl
Summary: After a nasty break up, Blaine is left heartbroken and discouraged from his song-writing. When a blue eyed boy walks into his life, he's taken on a journey full of music and self-discovery. Romance sparks, but of course, nothing is as easy as it seems, especially when past issues get involved. Based on the Broadway musical/film Once.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: I think I'm ready to come back from my little hiatus. I don't think I want to continue the kitty!kurt story right now because I don't really have any ideas for it at the moment. Maybe I'll get around to it, we'll see. But over the holiday break (which was a while ago), I got to see Once the musical as my Christmas gift. I absolutely fell in love with the show and the music, and I just really really loved it. It was definitely a huge highlight of my winter break (I also got to see Aladdin the musical in Toronto, it was incredible!) but I was more inspired by Once to write a fic about it. Please keep in mind that I probably will end up changing some of it from the original story since I want to make it my own. Also, I'm going to write Blaine as the lead male character and Kurt as the lead female. I just wanted to explain that it's not because I think of Kurt as a girl and Blaine as the "manlier" one in the relationship, I just think that it would work better for the story. So I hope that doesn't offend anyone. I also really encourage everyone to listen to the Broadway recording of Once on youtube or something while you read this, because the music really is amazing. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy._

Open mic nights at The Lima Bean were never Blaine's favourite.

Tuesday's at The Lima Bean meant that any poets, musicians or comedians that lived in the general Lima area would stumble in with their arms full of sheet music or instruments and perform whatever they wanted. Tuesday's were typically the nights where the locals were absent, because people would rather sip their overly sugared lattes in silence rather than listen to an aspiring artist stand at the front of the cafe.

Blaine used to love open mic nights. The turn out was never great, but he loved performing at any chance he could get. Or at least, he used to. That was six months ago, before his boyfriend Sebastian cheated on him and moved to New York. But Blaine didn't like to think about that. So instead of performing on Tuesday's, Blaine would come in and sit down at his usual table at the back of the room and write in his journal or on his laptop. He didn't quite know why he still came to the open mic nights if he never participated or thoroughly enjoyed them. Maybe his brain was just conditioned to come in on Tuesday nights and have a coffee at this point.

So, there Blaine sat one chilly November evening, writing in his journal with an earbud in his left ear and his right ear turned towards the sound of the act performing. Even though Blaine never gave his full attention, he always made sure to clap the loudest when the performance was over, because he knew how it felt to have your talent on display and getting no reaction. Scattered, light applause sounded throughout the cafe as the act who just concluded their rendition of Katy Perry's _Roar_ took a small bow.

After what felt like a few hours later, people began to shuffle out of the shop with their hands full of lukewarm paper cups. The technical equipment for the open mic was being put away into the shops storage room. The old antique piano was pushed up against a wall of the shop where it would hibernate until next Tuesday. Blaine hadn't even realized it was almost closing time since his face had been in his notebook the whole time. The shop was almost completely empty, and the sound of someone loudly screeching their chair across the linoleum floor brought Blaine back to life. He rubbed at his eyes wearily and sighed, closing up his notebook and yanking his one earbud.

"Goodnight, Blaine," said Anna, one of the baristas. She had her coat buttoned up all the way to her neck, her face buried almost entirely in her thick scarf. "It's almost closing time. See you later."

Blaine gave Anna a small smile and a wave. "See you, Anna. Have a good night."

Blaine looked around. There weren't too many people left, only a young, 15 year old looking girl typing furiously away at her keyboard with loud music blaring from her headphones at one table and a guy sleeping at another table. Blaine eyed the tiny makeshift performance space for the open mic nights. It was a tiny and pathetic space to the left of the front counter. There were little speakers set up on either side of the space like two pilars and the piano pushed against the wall. It wasn't much, but for some people, it would probably be the only performing opportunity they could get.

Looking down at his side, Blaine reached down and touched the fabric carrier of his guitar. Though he usually played it alone in his room nowadays, he still brought it almost everywhere he went. His guitar was like a part of his person, and it would feel strange to leave it behind. He looked back at the typing girl and the sleeping guy. They didn't look like they were paying any attention to him, which is what he wanted. Blaine unzipped his guitar free from the carrier and grabbed the journal he'd been writing in.

He crossed the cafe and sat down at the piano bench. Blaine remembered when he used to play show tunes and top forty pop on the piano all the time, back when Sebastian still lived in Ohio.

Blaine set his open journal down on the piano to the song he had been writing. He only had the lyrics and none of the actual music had been written down yet, but he had a pretty good idea of what he wanted it to sound like. He set the guitar on his lap and began to strum lightly.

_I can't wait forever is all that you said_

_Before you stood up_

_And you won't disappoint me_

_I can do that myself_

_But I'm glad that you've come_

_Now if you don't mind_

_Leave, leave,_

_And free yourself at the same time_

_Leave, leave,_

_I don't understand, you've already gone._

Blaine got lost in his music. He didn't even really mind if the typing girl and the sleeping guy or any of the baristas were watching him, because it was really the first time he'd ever sung this song out loud after having it in his mind for so long. It was something he needed to get out. Blaine found that harbouring stuff in never made him feel better, but he did it anyway.

With a final strum, Blaine finished his song. He hadn't even realized how much he'd gotten into the music until he was finished playing the song. He'd been practically belting out the last verse, and he was almost short of breath when he was done. Feeling a lump in his throat and tears threatening to sting his eyes, he hung his head low, taking a deep breath. A few moments of silence passed.

"Wow. That was amazing."

Blaine nearly jumped out of the piano seat and dropped his guitar on the floor at the sound of a high pitched voice. He whirled around and was met with a man standing a few feet away from the piano.

The man looked tall and young, definitely in the same age range as Blaine, making him around eighteen or nineteen. He wore a navy blue peacoat buttoned all the way up to his neck; a grey scarf tied stylishly around his neck in a unique looking knot. His coiffed, chestnut brown hair had tiny snowflakes planted in it. He was clutching a leather brown messenger bag to his side. The navy blue in his peacoat brought out the bright blueness of his eyes, making them appear brighter than the artificial lights keeping The Lima Bean lit. A curious look gleamed in his eyes, looking back and forth from Blaine's guitar to Blaine's face.

Blaine hadn't even heard him come into the store. He noticed that the typing girl was gone, but the sleeping guy remained at the table, dozing away. It'd probably only been a few minutes since he started his song, but it felt like much longer.

"I'm sorry," the man said, "I didn't mean to startle you or anything."

Blaine cleared his throat. "It's okay. I mean, you did, but it's alright."

"That was a really nice song you were playing," the man said. "Like, seriously, I ran inside just to get a last minute cup of coffee, but I had to stay when I heard you singing. What song was that?"

Blaine couldn't help it, but warmth flooded to his cheeks at the man's compliments. It'd been a long while since he'd received a compliment from someone about his songs. Most of his feedback had come from his friends, family, Sebastian…but not usually from strangers.

"Um, I wrote it," Blaine explained. "I haven't named it yet, but I'm thinking about calling it _Leave,_ since it's the word I sing most in the song." Blaine laughed.

The man's jaw dropped. "_You_ wrote that song?"

Blaine nodded.

"Wow," the man said. "That's…it was really good."

Blaine gave a small, shy smile. "Thank you so much."

"I don't mean to pry," the man said, "but do you write songs? For a living, I mean?"

Blaine snorted. "No, it's just a hobby I have."

"_Just_ a hobby?" the man said. "You gotta be kidding, right? That one song alone deserves to be sold on iTunes right now! Or, illegally downloaded by millions of kids all over North America, as I should say now."

Blaine let out a nervous laugh. He couldn't believe he was hearing this from some random guy who walked into The Lima Bean at nearly eleven at night. "You're making me embarrassed."

The man quirked his head to the side. "Why are you embarrassed? That's a serious talent you got there. You should be proud."

Blaine rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks."

There was a split second of awkward silence. "Sorry if I interrupted you. You looked like you were getting really into it."

"Yeah, that happens sometimes, especially when I think no one is watching. No need to apologize, though."

"Do you perform here?"

Blaine shook his head. "No. I used to, on open mic nights, but I guess I just…grew out of it. I do kind of miss it sometimes, though. The feeling of performing. Feels kinda good to just…sing."

The man cleared his throat. "You could play right now. For me, if you'd like."

Blaine looked surprised. "What?"

"Why not perform a song right now?" the man said. "I mean, there's no one else in here except for dozy over there," the man gestured towards the sleeping guy, "and me. I could even play back up for you, if you'd like."

The man walked up to the piano and played a simple scale. "Sorry. Was that too forward? I hope it's not too weird."

Blaine smiled. "It's…a little weird. I'm flattered, though. But um…my stuff isn't really that great, and it's closing time soon anyways."

The man looked slightly embarrassed for a second, but he recovered and determination glanced in his eyes. "How can you say your stuff isn't that great when a stranger just praised the ground you walk on for one song? You know, a compliment is always genuine when it comes from someone you don't know. Come on, there's still a bit of time before the shop closes."

Blaine smirked. "I feel like I'm putting on a concert for no one."

"Maybe," said the man. "But at least it's a chance to perform."

Blaine looked at the man for what felt like a long time. He got a proper, closer look at him. It looked like his eyes were mixed with other colours, like green and grey. He had pretty pale skin and rosy red cheeks from the cold outside. It was obvious that he was cute. In fact, he was more than cute. Something about his bright eyes and small, tempting smile made it difficult for Blaine to say no despite how late it was getting and despite that he'd known this person for about a minute. But, he knew that he probably should anyway, just because he didn't know if he was quite ready to share his songs with people again. Not like how he shared them with Sebastian.

"Thanks so much for making my night by showering me with compliments," Blaine told the stranger, "but I really do think I should get going. I'm pretty tired, and it's getting late. But seriously, thanks."

Blaine moved off of the piano seat and slung his guitar over his shoulder. He was walking towards his table to retrieve his bag and coat when all of a sudden, he heard the melody of a familiar tune begin to play on the piano. He knew the tune all too well.

He turned to see the man sitting at the piano, smiling at him as he played a few notes on the piano. But he wasn't just playing the melody to any song. It was one of Blaine's songs.

"Hey, how did you-"

The man smiled. "You left your sheet music here, you know."

Oh.

The man turned back towards the music and looked at it for a long time, trying to get an idea of what it would sound like in his head just by sight reading the music. "Falling Slowly," the man said. "That's a nice title. The tune is nice, too. Romantic."

"I'm glad you think so, but I really should-"

"Is this song complete?" the man said, talking to himself. He flipped through the crinkled up page of the song on the piano stand. Blaine was a little annoyed that some stranger was going through his music right in front of him, but that curious expression on the man's face made Blaine not completely dislike him. It was nice to have someone take an interest in his music, even after Blaine told himself he was going to stop writing it.

Before Blaine could say anything, the man suddenly began to play the music very rapidly. Blaine jerked his head back and frowned.

"Hey, hey!" Blaine told him, and the man's head turned to look at Blaine.

"Not so fast," Blaine conducted. "Take it easy. Slower. Here…I'll show you."

Blaine took a seat on a chair next to the piano bench and slung his guitar to the front of his body, strumming it once before positioning his fingers over the strings. "It's not a fast song. Just…take your time with it, like this."

Blaine demonstrated by playing the music on his guitar. He could feel the man's eyes on him, watching his fingers coast along the guitar. "There. Repeat that."

The man did as he was told, and repeated the tune Blaine had just played on the piano, much slower and sweeter than before.

"That's nice," the man said.

"You haven't even heard the whole song," Blaine replied.

"I know. But I can just tell, it's nice. Will you play the whole thing? Please?"

"I should really get going-"

"Like I said, I'll accompany you on the piano. And hey, maybe they won't kick us out once they hear us playing beautiful music."

Blaine eyed the man, and then smirked. "Okay, but on one condition. You're gonna have to sing a long."

The man cocked his head to the side, a devilish grin stretched across his face. "You've got a deal."

"Alright, then," Blaine said, straightening himself in the seat. "I'll walk you through the first section. It goes like this…"

Blaine repeated what he had just played, and the man followed along, his eyes flickering back and forth between the sheet music and Blaine's guitar. Blaine began to sing.

_I don't know you but I want you__  
__All the more for that._

"This is where you come in," Blaine said, strumming lightly. "Can you read harmonies?"

"I'll do my best," the man replied. He joined in.

_Words fall through me and always fool me_

_And I can't react__._

The man's voice was distinctively high pitched, especially for a male, but it sounded unique and as clear as a bell. Blaine was singing a love song with this man and he didn't even know for sure if he was gay, but based on how comfortable he was singing a romantic song with another man, Blaine had a hint. There was something telling Blaine to stop singing. A part of him felt out of place and awkward since he was singing his song with a complete stranger. But something was also beckoning Blaine in; telling him to continue.

"That was good," Blaine told him. "It's just me singing this next part. It goes like this…"

Blaine demonstrated once more on his guitar the next part of the song, being sure to go slow so that the man had enough time to look at the sheet music. Blaine begun to sing again.

_And games that never amount_

_To more than they're meant_

_Will play themselves out._

"Come back in," Blaine said, his speaking voice suddenly much quieter than this singing voice. Their eyes met just before the man joined in with the harmonies.

_Take this sinking boat and point it home_

_We've still got time_

_Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice_

_You make it now._

They continued until they had sung the entire song, making sure to slow down in certain places so that they were on the same page. The man, Blaine found, had a great voice, and was pretty good at keeping up with Blaine despite this being the first time he'd ever played the song before. It was probably one of the most bizarre things Blaine had ever done. Not many people could say they'd sung a love song with a complete stranger. At this point, Blaine was telling himself that the only reason why he agreed to sing the song was because he was craving the need to perform. Which was partially true, but, well…there was no denying that this stranger was attractive. _Very _attractive, in fact.

Blaine listened as the harmonies he wrote blended together and bloomed into the room like a blossoming flower bud. For the first time in six months, he actually felt proud…and happy.

"One, two, three, four," Blaine counted out loud, giving the man the cue that they were near the end of the song. The two played their respective parts together, and with a final strum of the guitar/chord from the piano, the song ended, the last chord reverberating into the room. There was silence.

Blaine looked down at the man sitting at the piano. His face gazed at the sheet music like he was looking at his child for the first time. Blaine had never experienced such positive feedback from someone before.

"So, who is she?"

Blaine looked at him. "I'm sorry?"

"The girl in the song. Who is she, if you don't mind me asking?"

Blaine shook his head. He knew it was his business to keep to himself, but it felt like forever since he had an actual conversation with someone.

"Not a girl. A boy."

The man seemed surprised. "Oh. Forgive me."

"It's no trouble, don't worry."

"I mean, I kind of expected you were gay a little, since you're wearing a cardigan and a bow tie, and no straight men ever have decent fashion senses these days, but I wasn't sure."

Blaine laughed. "Well, you thought right. And…I would assume you are too? I mean, I don't know any straight guys who hit on guys in coffee shops and then sing songs with them."

The man laughed too. "No, I am. Gay, I mean."

Silence.

"So, where is he? Your boy?"

Blaine shoved his hands into his pockets and fixated his eyes on the piano keys. "In New York for the past six months. We're…not really anything, anymore."

"I see," the man said with an apologetic and slightly embarrassed look on his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"It's okay," Blaine assured him, shrugging. "It's…still kind of a softer subject, but you didn't know."

"The song though…it's lovely. Truly, it is."

"Thank you. Um, thanks for backing me up, I guess."

Before the man could say anything else, a barista walked out from the storage room. "Hey, you two lovebirds done yet? We're closing up right now and I've been waiting in there the whole time listenin' to you too sing about your feelings."

Blaine was about to correct the barista and tell him that they were in no means "lovebirds", but his his wrist watch caught his eye and he nearly had a heart attack. "Oh my god! It's so late, I'm gonna miss my bus!"

He began to gather all of his belongings together as quickly as he could. The man helped him, gathering all his sheet music and folding it into the journal. "The bus? That sucks that you have to take public transportation, especially in weather like this."

"I have a car," Blaine said, throwing his coat on, "it's just busted up right now. I gotta get it fixed."

Just as Blaine was about to rush out of the door with his guitar on his back, the stranger yelled, "Wait!"

Blaine turned around, his hand on the door handle. The man bit his lip before speaking.

"Um, look, I know I just met you and I sang a song with you, and this is totally not what I thought my night would look like, but…I can give you a lift home if you need it. I promise I'm not a serial killer or anything. But my dad owns a tire shop, and we can give you some help on your car."

Blaine felt the chilliness from outside even though he hadn't even opened the door yet. "I…would feel really bad just intruding into your car."

"No no," the man said. "I offered. I mean, you shared your music with me…and I'd feel bad if I just let you go home in this awful weather. I can drive you home, if you want."

Blaine knew he should reject the offer, but it was absolutely freezing outside, and he knew he'd miss his bus at this rate anyway. "Really?"

"Really," the man repeated, a kind smile on his face.

Blaine sighed. "Okay, okay. Really, thank you so much. And…you sure you're not a serial killer?"

The man laughed. "I promise. Besides, if I was a serial killer, I probably would have killed you already." The man gave a wink. "Come on, my car's this way."

Just before the man could exit The Lima Bean and show Blaine his car, he stopped him and held out his hand.

"My name's Blaine, by the way."

It wasn't until then did they realize that they didn't formerly introduce one another. The man smiled and gripped Blaine's hand firmly.

"Kurt."

_AN: The songs used here were Leave and Falling Slowly, obviously from the Once soundtrack. I personally like the Broadway recording a little more than the movie one, but the movie is still good. All music and lyrics written by Glen Hansard and __Mark__é__ta Irglov__á__. Also, I__'__ve decided for this fic that I__'__m not going to post the entire lyrics for a song whenever there__'__s a scene with a song in it. I__'__ll probably post just the first verse and the chorus since the songs from Once are pretty long._


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: I didn't really get a great response for the first chapter, so I hope people like the idea of a Once story. If not, maybe I'll continue it elsewhere. But I'll just keep posting to see if people will read this._

"Ahh," Kurt sighed sarcastically as he shut the door to his navigator, "there's no cold like car cold."

Blaine shivered in the passengers seat. He was grateful that he didn't need to take the bus, because even being outside for a few seconds made his skin feel like it was going to become permanently frozen. There was no way he could have waited at the bus stop for another twenty minutes or so. However, Kurt's car had a lot of warming up to do. The leather seats were freezing, and the material stung Blaine's denim clad legs.

"Hold on, I'll get some heat in here," Kurt said, turning the car on and cranking up the heat.

"Thanks," Blaine said through chattering teeth. He could see his breath in front of him come out in small puffs. "Thanks a lot for driving me home. I would have died of hypothermia at the bus stop."

"Well, you know what they say," Kurt said in a mock-cheery voice, "play music with a guy, and you have to drive him home. That's my life motto."

Blaine smiled into his scarf. He gave Kurt his address and watched Kurt program it into the GPS.

"So," Kurt said, pulling out of The Lima Bean parking lot, "what exactly happened to your car?"

"I have no idea," Blaine told him. "My dad was gonna call a mechanic or someone to come and fix it, cause I don't know a single thing about the art of automobiles."

Kurt snorted. "My dad owns a repair shop. I work there sometimes, so we can tow in your car tomorrow and have a look at it."

"What repair shop is it?"

"Have you ever heard of _Hummel__'__s Tires and Lube_ in Lima? It's that one."

"Oh," Blaine said. "I've driven by that place a few times. Your dad owns it?"

"Yeah. His name is Burt, Burt Hummel. I know, I know, you don't have to say anything-I'm aware that our names rhyme. My parents weren't some weird Dr. Seuss fanatics, though. My mom just really liked _The Sound of Music_ and named me after Kurt Vonn Trapp without really thinking about my dad's name."

Blaine laughed. "It's fine. Besides, I love that movie."

"Same."

It was quiet for a moment. It was a little awkward at first, so Blaine decided to just make small talk until he was home, because he didn't want to sit in a semi-freezing car with a stranger in total silence.

"So…did you grow up in Lima?"

"Yeah," Kurt replied, continuing to drive down the dark road. "Born and raised."

"If you don't mind me asking…" Blaine started, "how old are you?"

"I turned nineteen a few weeks ago," Kurt told him.

"So am I," Blaine said.

"What are the odds of that?" Kurt said, giving a smile but not taking his eyes off the road. "I successfully managed to hit on someone my own age for once."

Blaine laughed playfully, but colour flooded to his cheeks. "You were hitting on me, huh? I knew it."

Kurt slapped a hand over his mouth. "Oh, shit…did I say that out loud? Oh my god, I didn't mean to. God, I probably sound like such a desperate-"

"Hey, hey," Blaine said, "It's okay, really."

"I'm an embarrassment to the entire gay community," Kurt mumbled, "and the world."

"You're not," Blaine assured him. "You know…you have a nice voice. A really nice voice, actually. I was impressed. People don't just come up to me and want to start singing one of my songs with me, so I thought you'd be kind of sketchy. Sorry for the bluntness. But you were really good."

Blaine pretended not to notice the small, shy smile on Kurt's mouth, because it looked like he was trying to conceal it anyway. "Thank you. I wish you were my high school choir director so you could have given me all the solos."

"What high school did you go to?" Blaine asked him.

"William McKinley," Kurt said, a hint of disgust and annoyance colouring his tone. "AKA, the worst high school in all of Ohio. What school did you go to?"

"Dalton Academy," Blaine told him. "It's a private school…say, I'm pretty sure my show choir competed against yours-"

"The Warblers," Kurt realized. "That's right. I was in the New Directions."

Blaine did a double take. "_What?_"

Kurt was about to ask him why he sounded so surprised, but then his face deadpanned. "Yes, haha, _Nude Erections_, I know. It's the most menacing name…all the choirs _definitely_ feared us."

Blaine tried to suppress his laughter, but failed. "I'm sorry. It just caught me off guard…try saying that name three times fast."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Don't even get me started. My choir director thought it was a name that showed our "hard work" and "dedication" and about how we were struggling misfits trying to make it to the top, when really it was one big innuendo. And when I say "hard work and dedication," I really mean fighting with each other, stealing each other's partners, and threatening to quit every other day."

"Geez," Blaine said, "sounds like a hassle. The Warblers were really well behaved…something about tradition and honor and blazers that were too big for our bodies. But I loved it. I felt at home when I was with them."

Kurt nodded. "I came so close to transferring there."

Blaine looked at him. "Really? Why didn't you? We could have been the best of friends."

Kurt gave a smile, but there was a hint of sadness behind it, too. "The bullying at my school. It just got really bad. I don't want to go into too much depth about it, but stuff happened. My dad kept insisting that I transfer there because of the no bullying policy, but my dad had just remarried at the time, and I didn't want to put my family further into debt."

"Oh," Blaine said. "I'm sorry. About the bullying, and-"

"It's alright," Kurt said. "What's done is done. I'm finished with high school now. I'll never have to be called _lady face _by any of those homophobic Neanderthals again. "

There was a pause before Blaine spoke.

"Can I let you in on a secret?" Blaine said, and Kurt nodded.

"I transferred to Dalton from my old school from bullying," Blaine told him. "A lot of crap happened. There was this whole incident at my Sadie Hawkins dance…and I could never go back after that. I just…I know how it feels to be bullied for something you can't control."

Kurt wondered what had happened to Blaine, but there was no way he was going to pry. He'd already invaded his privacy enough tonight.

"I've never really met someone like you," Kurt said, and the way it came out of his mouth sounded foreign, as if another person were speaking for him.

"Someone like me," Blaine repeated.

"I mean, a gay teenager in a conservative high school. I was the only out kid in my school."

"So was I," Blaine told him. "At my school before Dalton, at least."

There was another silence, but this time, it wasn't as cringe worthy as the first. Blaine listened to the slightly icy road crunch underneath the tires. It was almost soothing.

"So," Kurt said, "Since we'll be in here for a while longer, "tell me your story."

"My story?"

"Anything you want to about yourself. I know you're an ex-Warbler who can write incredibly well and who enjoys coffee, hair gel and bow-ties."

"That sounds like the worst online dating profile in the world," Blaine said. Kurt smiled.

"Well, you're now in some other guy's car, so the description can't be that bad," Kurt told him.

"Okay," Blaine began. "Let's see. Well, you already know I'm nineteen. I graduated last year from Dalton. I've been doing the whole songwriting thing for as long as I can remember, but I really love the theatrical side of music as well. I'd love to get into musical theatre some day as well as musical composition. Dalton never had any musicals since it was an all male school, but I did community theatre as much as I could. You might think I'm a total slacker for saying this, but I'm not really in college right now. I was an idiot when I auditioned for NYU, because I didn't have any backup schools. I was so sure I was going to get in, but I just…didn't. I was crushed when I got my rejection letter, to say the least. There was no way I was going to a community college. Not that there's anything wrong with going to community colleges, but I knew right away that there'd be nothing for me there. So I think I'm gonna audition for NYU again, since they start accepting applications again in a few weeks."

"Wow," Kurt breathed.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just that…I didn't expect you to be so _similar_ to me."

Blaine turned his head curiously.

"I graduated last year from McKinley," Kurt started. "I wanted and still want to travel in the musical theatre direction. I knew ever since I was young. I was planning on moving to New York with my friend Rachel. We both auditioned for NYADA, the performing arts school."

"Really? NYADA only accepts like, twenty people a year though, right?"

"I didn't have any safety schools," Kurt sighed. "I guess I thought I was getting in for sure, too. My audition had gone beyond perfect. Everything that possibly could have gone right, did, and I thought I had it in the bag for sure…"

"What was your audition song?" Blaine asked.

Kurt smirked, his nose scrunching up. "_Not The Boy Next Door_ from _The Boy From Oz_."

Blaine smiled. "Gold pants?"

"Gold pants," Kurt confirmed. "Not only that, but I had backup singers and a great accompanist…and dancing in those pants wasn't easy, that's for sure. But they said I was too flashy, in the end. They wanted people who had more heart and soul in their music. So, Rachel went off to New York without me, and here I am, college-less. I think I'm going to audition again though."

"You should," Blaine nodded. "All the colleges are accepting applications soon. And from what I've heard…you can definitely sing with heart."

"Oh, please," Kurt said, trying to mask the coyness and modesty in his voice and coating it with slight sassiness. "That was your song I was singing, so I was trying extra hard to impress you."

Blaine laughed. "Well, whatever you're doing, it worked. You're really good."

Silence.

"I'm sorry," Blaine half-whispered.

"Why are you sorry?" Kurt asked softly. His voice was just as quiet.

"Am I making things awkward?" Blaine asked. "I'm being sincere, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Kurt shook his head. "It's flattering. No one's ever really told me that they liked my voice before. I sound like Judy Garland on helium, so it's not the nicest voice for a teenage boy."

"Judy Garland on helium sounds pretty good, if you ask me." Kurt laughed.

"Okay, enough about my overly effeminate voice," Kurt said. "Let's get back to you. What's it about New York that draws you in?"

"I mean…it's everything, really. The bright lights, the energy, the culture and music…everything there makes me feel alive every time I get to go. Like time just suddenly-"

"Stops," Kurt whispered. "Just for you."

"Yes," Blaine agreed. "Exactly. You took the words out of my mouth. I was supposed to move there with my boyfriend-"

Blaine immediately shut his mouth. He needed to keep reminding himself that Sebastian was no longer his boyfriend. He hadn't been for six months.

Kurt swallowed and cleared his throat quietly. "You okay?"

"Fine," Blaine said. "I'm stupid. I keep telling myself not to bring it up. But I do, anyways."

"Maybe you just need to get it out instead of bottling it in."

"It's just been a while, that's all. I should be used to not calling him my boyfriend anymore."

"You don't have to be used to anything," Kurt told him, and there was something in Kurt's voice that made it sound like he understood Blaine's situation. "Don't invalidate your own feelings. What you feel is what you feel, and you can't change that in the blink of an eye."

Blaine had never thought of it that way. He wanted to ask Kurt more, but he had the feeling he shouldn't. There was something in the way Kurt spoke and the look in his eyes that gave the impression that he'd gone through something similar, but Blaine was in no way entitled to ask him about his love life.

Switching off of the sensitive subjects, they focused on more lighthearted topics. They talked about their favourite musicals, movies, types of music, television shows, guilty pleasures…for some reason, Blaine felt like he knew Kurt from before The Lima Bean, even though they'd just met that night. Kurt felt the same way. Talking to someone who had so much in common with him made it easy, almost like a release of emotions.

"But yeah," Kurt continued from his train of thought, "Patti Lupone over Bernadette Peters any day."

"Agreed," Blaine said. "Oh, we're coming up to my stop. You can just pull up here."

Kurt did as he was told, and he pulled up to the side curb, right in front of Blaine's house. Kurt had to admit that it was pretty big, with two cars in the driveway. He assumed one of them was Blaine's broken car that he would have to fix tomorrow.

"Before you go," Kurt said, a hint of nervousness in his voice, "um, you can have my phone number. I'm gonna have to come get your car tomorrow so that we can bring it to the tire shop."

"Sure," Blaine said, and they exchanged numbers. Kurt wondered what would happen if he texted Kurt for purposes other than his broken car.

"Thank you so much for the ride, you're a life saver," Blaine told Kurt.

"It was no problem. Thanks for sharing your music with me."

"Technically, you started playing it on your own."

"Details, details," Kurt said, waving his hand around in the air in an exaggerated motion. Blaine smiled.

"You know," Blaine continued, "you never did get to buy a last minute cup of coffee, did you?"

"I guess I didn't," Kurt said.

Blaine paused for a moment before speaking. "I'd be more than happy to get a coffee with you after my whole car situation gets sorted out. If you'd like to."

Kurt smiled sweetly, and Blaine could feel his body soften just by looking at Kurt's smile. "I would really like that, actually."

Blaine tried not to let his surprise show, but he was glad that Kurt actually agreed. "Really? Great then. We should-we'll do that."

Kurt laughed. "Okay."

"Again, thanks so much for driving me. I'll call you or something for tomorrow about my car."

"Sounds good."

They shook hands again firmly; holding on just a little bit longer than a normal handshake would last.

"Have a good night, Kurt."

"See you tomorrow, Blaine."


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Blaine saw the black tow truck pull up in front of his house, and he immediately knew it was Kurt coming to tow his car. He went outside to greet Kurt, who was bundled up in the same peacoat and scarf as yesterday. His hair was swooped up into a perfect coif, looking as though he hadn't slept on it since yesterday.

"Hi, Blaine," Kurt said warmly.

"Hey," Blaine said. "Do you wanna come in for coffee or something? It's still pretty early in the morning."

"No thank you," Kurt replied. "My dad has kind of a busy day at the shop and he needs the truck back ASAP. But if I recall, we were supposed to grab a coffee anyway…um, that is, if you still want to."

Blaine smiled, briefly looking down to look at his shoes to mask the smile. "Of course."

Soon, they were on the road, Blaine's car towing behind them.

"So, do you ever help your dad out at the shop?" Blaine asked.

"Occasionally. Don't let my effeminate face and slightly lowered Mandy Moore singing voice fool you, I can actually work on cars."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you or question your abilities or-"

"No harm done," Kurt cut in. "I didn't think you were insulting me. People just wonder how a burly man like my dad could produce someone like me."

"So your dad isn't a musical theatre loving fashionista either?" Blaine teased.

"Come on, Blaine, he owns a _tire _shop. But he can appreciate theatre every now and then. The only reason why he agreed with my mom to name me after Kurt from _The Sound of Music_ is because he secretly can quote and sing all the songs to that musical, and he thought, 'hey, if my wife is gonna name my only kid after a musical character, then at least it's from a musical I know'. Trust me…I've walked in on him singing _16 Going on 17_ before, and it wasn't a pretty sight." Blaine laughed.

They arrived at the tire shop pretty quickly, since it was still early and there wasn't too much traffic on the road. It smelt of gasoline, dust, and metal, but Blaine didn't mind. After all, he was getting his car fixed.

A man walked up to Kurt and Blaine once they were out of the tow truck. He wore a red and white flannel shirt with baggy jeans and a baseball cap. He was tall and had a stocky build, but a friendly face accompanied it. There was certain wisdom in his eyes, something that made Blaine feel like the man knew a lot.

"Thanks for bringing the truck back on time, buddy," the man said, clapping Kurt on the shoulder. So, this was Burt Hummel. Kurt was right: they definitely didn't look like father and son. "And I'm assuming this is Blaine?"

"Hi, sir," Blaine said, sticking his hand out for Burt to shake. "Nice to meet you."

"It's only been a night since my son met you," Burt said, "but boy, did he tell me a lot about you."

"_Dad_," Kurt huffed, his cheeks reddening as he cast his eyes downward. Blaine laughed playfully, but couldn't help wondering: _Kurt talked about me?_

"Relax, kiddo, I'm just teasing," Burt told his son. "Anyway, what seems to be the damage here?"

"Well, it's been like this for a couple of weeks now…" Blaine began to explain the damage of his car to Burt. Kurt rolled his eyes and sighed. He loved his dad to death, but _why_ did he have to embarrass him in front of Blaine like that? It's not like he talked about Blaine _that_ much. _I just may have mentioned that he__'__s the same age as me and writes dreamy songs, is that so bad? Kurt thought._

But alas, dads did what dads did best. Embarrass their kids and then act like they did nothing wrong.

"Alright," Burt said. "I'll see what I can do. This may take a few hours though. Why don't you and Kurt go do something in the mean time?"

"_Dad_," Kurt scolded again.

Blaine laughed. "Thanks, Mr. Hummel. I really appreciate the help. I can barely fix my own smoke alarm."

"Don't worry about it, son," Burt told him.

"We were just gonna get coffee," Kurt said. "Need anything, dad?"

"Being able to eat bacon for breakfast would be swell," Burt said.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "No, dad, you're still supposed to be watching your heart. I refuse to succumb to your bacon obsessed ways."

Burt gave a hearty chuckle. "Have fun, guys."

"Bye, dad."

When they were in Kurt's navigator driving to The Lima Bean, Blaine said, "You're dad is…something."

Kurt groaned. "_Don__'__t_ tell me about it. I swear he embarrasses me on purpose."

Blaine laughed. "No, Kurt, really. I can see where you get your wit and sense of humor from. He seems like a really great guy."

"He is," Kurt said. "I'm lucky to have him as my dad. You don't get many men who look like that and can still accept their gay child."

"If you don't mind me asking…is there something wrong with his heart? Shit, I probably just crossed over the line, it's just that you mentioned it-"

"Blaine, Blaine," Kurt said. "It's fine. If I weren't okay with you asking about it, I wouldn't have mentioned it. My dad is fine, he just had a heart scare a few years ago, and ever since then, we've been monitoring his health like crazy. But he's better than ever."

"It's cool you have such a great relationship with your dad," Blaine said.

"Do you…not?" Kurt asked, and the car became quiet.

"Sorry," Kurt said quickly. "That was rude of me."

"Don't worry about it," Blaine smiles. "We both seem to have this habit of apologizing to each other hastily."

Kurt gave a small smile. "Let's agree to just…say whatever we need to say and then if it offends us, we say so, alright?"

"Deal," Blaine replied. "As for my dad, our relationship is pretty good. We don't fight about me being gay, but it was a rough start when he first found out. He tried to make me build a car with him because he thought getting my hands dirty might make me straight. And you can clearly see how that turned out: I'm still gay and I can't fix cars. But that was a long time ago. We're good now."

Kurt smiled.

They arrived at The Lima Bean. Luckily, since it was still daytime, there weren't too many people around. There was a quiet murmuring all around the shop as people chatted and sipped their drinks. It was comfortably hospitable.

"What's your coffee order?" Blaine asked as they approached the counter, pulling out his wallet. Kurt noticed he was pulling out more money than required for his own coffee.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Kurt asked, placing his hand on Blaine's wallet. "There's no need for that. I can pay for my own."

"It's the least I can do after you agreed to help me with my car. It's just a coffee, it's not like I'm buying you a new house."

"Blaine, seriously, you really don't have to-"

"Kurt," Blaine said, placing his hand on Kurt's on top of the wallet, "just tell me your coffee order."

Kurt tried not to flush, pulling his hand away and clearing his throat. There was a tone of finality in Blaine's voice, so Kurt knew he couldn't argue. "A grande non-fat mocha, please."

Blaine smiled. "There, now was that so hard?"

He watched as Blaine ordered their coffees (A medium drip for Blaine. Kurt'd have to remember that for later) and they brought their steaming drinks over to a table near the window.

"So," Kurt said, wrapping his hands around the paper cup to warm them up, "tell me more about your songs."

Blaine widened his eyes, quickly blinking. "Um, well, there's nothing to know, really. I don't really have an interest in it as much as I used to."

Kurt gave him an incredulous look, which consisted of a quirked eyebrow and an unimpressed tilt of his head. "So you mean to tell me you wrote those 2 incredible songs last night, told me your life story in my car, want to pursue performing at NYU, and you're not as interested in it anymore?"

Blaine sipped as his coffee, his tongue flinching when the liquid burned him. "I want to apply to NYU for musical theatre, perhaps. But songwriting was something I did in my spare time."

"Oh, please," Kurt said. "You sound like one of those people who say 'I like to bake in my spare time'. You know who has time to bake? No one! And I know this because I used to tell people I baked for fun until I discovered that I was in fact a stress baker."

Blaine snorted, shaking his head back and forth. "I guess I just don't really have the inspiration anymore. Or the time."

Kurt's eyes went a little softer. He twirled his coffee cup in between his hands. "I know the feeling. You know, sometimes I really like to sketch my imaginary clothing line."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I have this plan that after I become this huge Broadway star, I'm going to release my own clothing line. It's bound to happen, you know. My great ideas can't stay trapped inside this mind forever."

Blaine smiled, marvelling at Kurt's confidence.

"Anyway," Kurt continued, "All throughout high school, I had this sketchbook that I would always draw in. All my ideas went in there, and they especially came when I was feeling particularly happy or sad. But one day, in my junior year, I kind of just…stopped. I didn't know why, and I thought it was my brain telling me that I was done with it. And then…"

Blaine waited for Kurt to continue, but he didn't.

"And then what, Kurt?" Blaine asked gently, keeping in mind that something quiet had settled over Kurt's face. He looked more thoughtful than he had a minute ago.

"Nothing," Kurt said, waving his hand dismissively. "It's stupid."

"Kurt," Blaine said, and Kurt looked up to meet Blaine's warm, hazel-green eyes that seemed to see straight into his mind. "I'm sure what you have to say isn't stupid."

Kurt licked his lips and started to turn his coffee cup in his hands again. "My sketches really started to come back to me about a few months ago, when my boyfriend Adam broke up with me. He was my real first and serious boyfriend, and he really meant a lot to me. But somehow, him not being around anymore gave me a new perspective on being alone after a breakup, and it sort of pushed me to start sketching again.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said. "I didn't mean to re-surface anything for you."

Kurt shook his head. "You didn't, Blaine. I mean, the breakup was bound to happen sooner or later, and I just kept putting it off until last minute until he was the one to finally end it. He was a year older than me, already in college, and I could feel him drifting further and further, but I kept denying it because I wanted to hold onto him as much as I could. It just ended up hurting me more, I guess."

He looked up from his coffee cup and noticed that Blaine was reading his expression like an open book. He blushed.

"God, sorry. You didn't need to hear me babble."

"I really don't know how anyone could dump you, Kurt."

Kurt felt his heart leap in his chest, and now it wasn't just the coffee in his hands that was keeping him warm. He stared at Blaine, taking in the slicked back hair, the collar of his button up shirt peeking out from his coat, the leather watch on his left wrist, the angular jaw and full lips.

"Why does it feel like I can tell you all this stuff and have it not feel weird at the same time?" Kurt asked.

Blaine smiled. "Maybe because I know how you feel. We're in similar positions right now."

"I'm sorry. About your ex-boyfriend."

"No no, it's totally okay. People we both really cared about just…left. And I guess I never really got over Sebastian. I'm not even sure if I'm 100% over him, to be honest."

"Me neither," Kurt shrugged. "The feeling of being forgotten…just sucks."

"It sucks."

"You know?"

"I know."

They smiled at each other. They hadn't felt so open in months. Talking to another person about something that was burdening them for so long felt strange, but not in a bad way. They felt as if they'd someone known each other from a while ago. Speaking wasn't awkward between them, and they'd only met a day ago. When they were close to finishing their coffees, Blaine checked his watch. They hadn't even realized how much time they'd spent at The Lima Bean, talking about everything they could think of. They didn't even notice more and more people starting to file in.

"I'm sure my dad is done with your car now," Kurt said, checking his phone for any text messages. "Or at least, close to finished with it. We can head back now and check."

"Sure. We might as well leave before more half-awake people come in in search of caffeinated drinks."

They left the shop, heading towards Kurt's navigator.

"Say," Kurt said, promptly turning towards Blaine, so quickly that it almost caught Blaine off guard. "I was wondering, did you wanna maybe stay for dinner tonight? I don't have any fancy plans, it's just my family and I, but if you want, you're more than welcome to stay."

Blaine hadn't been over to someone's house for dinner in years. He used to go to formal dinners with his Dalton friends and over to Sebastian's sometimes, but he and Sebastian usually went out rather than stayed at home. Blaine found himself not quite wanting to go home and be away from Kurt, though.

"I would love to, Kurt," Blaine replied, smiling.

_AN: Lol, by the way, this is just my opinion, but I really do this Chris Colfer's singing voice sounds like a lowered Mandy Moore. I found some audio clips on tumblr of people lowering her voice using editing software's and it sounded pretty much exactly like Chris. I thought it was kind of cool _


End file.
